


Transformation.

by signifying_nothing



Category: K-pop, 방탄소년단 | Bangtan Boys | BTS
Genre: M/M, Priest Kink, Threesome - M/M/M, i hope you are enjoy, my version of longfic i guess
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-07
Updated: 2016-02-07
Packaged: 2018-05-18 20:36:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,304
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5942299
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/signifying_nothing/pseuds/signifying_nothing
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>in which yoongi is a semi-religious hipster virgin and seokjin has a thing about conquests, which namjoon whole-heartedly supports.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Transformation.

**Author's Note:**

> i'm going to hell.  
> please enjoy this pathetic version of longfic.

Seokjin knew a virgin when he saw one.

It came from years of observation, from years of watching his friends and their friends and everyone else and learning what all the little motions meant, all the little tugs on hair and rearranging of clothes had to do with the kind of person he was looking at and that, sitting on the other side of the cafe with glasses perched on his small nose and a beanie holding down his fairy-floss pink hair, was a virgin.

“What are you looking at,” Namjoon asked, setting down his coffee and following the line of Seokjin's vision to the young man at the other end of the coffee place the two of them frequented. He chuckled under his breath and sat down, his own coffee held tight in his hand. “Ah, I see.”

“Virgin,” Seokjin said simply, turning to Namjoon and taking a sip of his black iced coffee. “Prude, even.”

“What makes you say that,” Namjoon asked, glancing over at the young man, in his skinny jeans and sweater. The arms of it hung over his wrists and most of his hands, leaving just his fingers showing as he typed. He gave the screen a slight scowl every then and again. He had headphones in, a nice pair of earbuds and his ears had three piercings, the bottom gauged. He wore a small cross on a silver chain and his fingers were adorned with silver rings that must have clicked together when he typed, or when he grabbed his medium iced drink to take a sip, wrapping his soft pink lips around the blue straw. He looked like Seokjin's type. The type just begging to be debauched. He had a kink or something, and Namjoon was always willing to indulge him.

“Just look at him,” Seokjin crossed his legs and grinned around his straw. The Virgin looked up from his computer to pick up his phone, took out one headphone to answer it, a small frown on his face. He couldn't hear what he was saying from this distance, but he didn't have to. The Virgin stopped speaking halfway through a sentence and then put his fingers under his glasses to cup his head as though he was very sick of having a particular argument. “He's practically broadcasting it.”

“So go ask him out for drinks,” Namjoon said. “Since he'll probably have to be drunk in order to consider it. He looks like a good little church-boy.”

“He's wearing that for show,” Seokjin waved his hand back and forth. “Probably. Besides, I don't need to get people drunk to talk them into bed with me.”

“So you say,” Namjoon laughed and Seokjin reached to swat him, very aware that Virgin was looking at them, probably with an expression of light curiosity, or perhaps even jealousy. He turned to catch Virgin's eyes just in time and turned on his most charming smile. The blush was rewarding.

“Oh,” he murmured, turning back to Namjoon. “This is going to be _fun._ ”

~

Seokjin was charming and attractive. He knew it. He was tall, had broad shoulders and an utterly kissable mouth, so he wasn't surprised that Virgin was anxious when he sidled up beside him in line and ordered his black iced coffee with two sugars, offering to pay for Virgin's _iced white cappuccino._ Virgin. Gay virgin. _Yes._

“Um, that's okay, you really don't--”

“I don't mind,” Seokjin said, offering his card to the barista and smiling down at Virgin. “I wanted to get a chance to talk to you, anyway.”

“What?”

No good flirt went after a target without doing some research first, and Seokjin had Kim Taehyung and Park Jimin on his side: there was almost nothing he couldn't learn about anyone he wanted, though Taehyung had been... Startlingly accommodating of his want for information. Normally he at least _pretended_ to have a moral compass. Regardless, it turned out Virgin was a recent graduate of the local university, a photography major with a double minor in filmography and business, his name was Min Yoongi and he was pretty as a white rose, though he was intensely private and suspicious. Had recently broken up with his long-term boyfriend due to, according to sources, _refusal to put out._

Of course, that could mean any number of things. That he didn't want to, that he'd been nervous to, or that he'd started and then changed his mind halfway through. Either way it didn't bother Seokjin. It just meant Virgin—Yoongi—had to be handled with care.

“You just graduated, right? Photography? Do you freelance?”

“Some,” Yoongi said, his eyes narrowed. It was adorable, Seokjin thought. He looked like an angry kitten, all puffed up like that. Or a tiny bird.

“I'm just scoping out,” Seokjin said, smiling as he took their coffees and offered Yoongi his. “I do graphic and interior design work, so knowing photographers helps out.”

“Oh,” Yoongi nodded, taking a sip of his drink and Seokjin was glad he hadn't needed to lie. He had worn his office clothes, after all, a well-cut suit that flattered his shape, though he'd left the tie on his desk when he'd taken it off. He should go back for it... But at the moment he was a little more concerned with the way that the short straw in Yoongi's drink meant his lips were _almost_ touching the whipped cream that topped it. That would be too much, for sure. Yoongi pursed his pretty lips before speaking again. “I have a card with me, if you'd like?”

“That would be _great,_ ” Seokjin said, smiling and he could almost see Yoongi's breath catch, watched his eyes widen and his shoulders tense up nervously. Virgin. Prude. Slut-in-the-making, almost certainly. Yoongi was fresh out of college (where he'd apparently spent literally all of his time working or sleeping), freelancing, he probably had some small part-time job to pay the bills until he found something full time. “I'll give you mine, too.”

With contact details exchanged, Seokjin wished Yoongi a good rest of his day, but not before letting his tongue curl around his straw, sucking slow at his drink. Let him fantasize about that, Seokjin thought, making sure to bounce his ass a bit as he walked out of the cafe.

~

“ _God_ he's hot,” Seokjin whined, hanging up his jacket and pulling off his shirt and pants, leaving himself in just his tee-shirt and underwear as he walked around his house. “It's not fair. Namjoon. It's not fair.”

“What's not fair?” Namjoon asked, looking up from where he was sitting at the dining room table, his eyebrow cocked up, his soft silver hair pushed back, held back with his sunglasses.

“Yoongi. Min Yoongi is not fair.”

“Oh, Virgin?”

“ _God,_ ” Seokjin complained, putting the card on the table. “Look at his work. _Look at it._ ” Namjoon scowled at being interrupted—he hated being interrupted—but picked up the card to go to the website written in shiny, sans-serif letters on the back of the matte grey card.

“Go to this one,” Seokjin touched the screen and Namjoon swatted his fingers, shifting to let Seokjin sit in his lap while he pouted. “Go to his portfolio—yeah, that one. _Look._ ”

Yoongi's photography was breathtaking. He had an eye for light and texture; he had to, considering that all of the work was in black and white, save for a few at the bottom. There were people, landscapes, closeups, but what interested Seokjin was down at the bottom, and he pointed it out to Namjoon. “This one.”

In the photograph, the lattice of a confessional was shattered with sunlight and on the other side of it, someone almost familiar grinned like a demon, tongue in the corner of their mouth, their eye only visible as a beam of sunlight pierced through it from the side.

“That is gorgeous,” Namjoon admitted. “Can we get a print of that?”

“Namjoon. I'm taking about a boy I want to bring home and you want to buy his art. That won't look like we're stalking him or anything.”

“You're the one doing the stalking,” Namjoon reminded, pressing a kiss to Seokjin's neck. “So go on, continue stalking.”

“But he's a hipster nerd who _goes to church_ ,” Seokjin complained. “And a virgin. And probably a prude, what do I do?”

“What do you do with anyone whose pants you want to get into,” Namjoon said, tickling his fingers beneath the waist of Seokjin's underwear. “You invite them to a party.”

~

“I'm really not the party type--”

“It'll be fun!” Seokjin promised. “Look, a lot of my business friends will be there, and you don't have to stay the whole night or anything. Long enough to schmooze a little bit, give out your card, and go home, easy as pie. Maybe have a drink or two.”

“I'm _really_ not good at this kind of thing,” Yoongi replied, and Seokjin waved his hand back and forth.

“Nonsense. If you're going to freelance, you should get better at it. Don't worry, hyung will take care of you, promise.”

If Seokjin hadn't been watching so carefully, if he hadn't known what he was looking at, he would have missed the way Yoongi shivered, missed the way his belly tensed up and his hips shifted, but Seokjin knew that he was watching and he knew what he was looking for.

“Hyung will take good care of you.”

~

Yoongi really _was_ bad at socializing.

Seokjin had thought maybe he was exaggerating but no, he really was bad at _peopling,_ as Namjoon called it. He was painfully shy, or else didn't know how to talk to strangers, but Seokjin stayed with him for the few hours he was at the party, eased him into conversations and assisted when he got stuck. It wasn't that Yoongi didn't have his own charm; he was dry, sarcastic, no-nonsense and that was nice, sometimes. It was just that he had no idea how to use it _on purpose._

“That wasn't so bad,” Seokjin said, slipping another drink into Yoongi's hand. His fourth. Something strong and sweet and electric pink.

“What are these,” Yoongi asked, and Seokjin could hear a lisp Yoongi had probably trained himself out of at a younger age, could hear the rippling accent in the back of his mouth. Daegu, like Taehyung. “They're dangerous.”

“I believe it's called _Pink Passion,_ ” Seokjin supplied, smiling indulgently as Yoongi sipped at it. Well. _Someone_ could hold his liquor. Who'd have thought, with his tiny little body? “Peach schnapps, tequila rose, cranberry juice, lemon. All delicious stuff.”

“Oh,” Yoongi finished the drink, his cheeks blushed and _god_ he was pretty, Seokjin thought as he grinned a very silly grin. “I usually just get hot sex.”

...What?

“Excuse me?”

“Hot Sex,” Yoongi repeated, blinking up at Seokjin. “T... Triple sec n'orange ju. Juice and grenadine. Taehyung—Taehyung thinks it's funny to, to go out to bars and get these _really_ inappropriately named drinks, right, like. To embarrass me n'stuff. Red-headed sluts and screaming orgasms and stuff. But Hot Sex is _really_ good.”

“I see,” Seokjin nodded, trying to ignore the way Yoongi was looking up at him like he was sizing him up. That was _his_ job, god damn it. Sizing Yoongi up. And Yoongi could hold his liquor, but he was getting tipsy on his feet, so Seokjin wrapped an arm around his shoulders and smiled when Yoongi giggled into his chest. “What.”

“You're so tall,” Yoongi replied, looking up at him. “Usually I hate it. I hate being short.”

“You're cute, though,” Seokjin said, pushing a bit of hair from Yoongi's narrow eyes and smiling. “Come on, let me get you home.”

Yoongi was a chatterbox when he was tipsy, and clearly he was comfortable enough to tell Seokjin that Taehyung was his best friend and favorite photography model (no wonder he'd known all those things about Yoongi) but now he was dating Jimin so he didn't have time to hang out as much anymore, so Yoongi was lonely. And he'd just broken up with his boyfriend, and that made him lonely, too.

“Why'd you break up with him,” Seokjin asked, carefully getting Yoongi into the front seat of his car and buckling him in. Yoongi tilted his head towards the drivers door and waited until Seokjin was in the car to talk.

“ _He_ broke up with _me,_ ” Yoongi said, quite indignant. “Because I wouldn't let him _fuck me_ on his dorm room floor.”

“That's a pretty shitty reason to break up with someone,” Seokjin observed.

“Right? Like, _excuse me_ for not wanting my first time to be on your fucking filthy carpet where your stupid roommate can just _walk in_ on us. I _invited_ him to my apartment but he didn't want to go, he said, he said I was a fucking prude and he didn't want to see me again.” There was a pause. “Four years. Gone.”

“Sounds like it wouldn't have worked out anyway,” Seokjin said. He was a bit afraid of Yoongi crying, even though it didn't sound like he was going to. “He sounds like a jerk.”

“He was a jerk,” Yoongi nodded, leaning back in the chair to look out the window as the city rolled by. “But I'm not very good at... So I guess I just thought I should stay, you know? I'm not good at making friends. Relationships in general.”

“You have Taehyung?”

“Taehyung was my roommate my junior year, I was kind of stuck with him,” Yoongi said, turning to look at Seokjin through his hair with his eyebrows up very high. “And he was _exhausting._ And annoying. And _loud._ And he never left me alone. He did all the work, I guess.”

“Is that what you're nervous about? Having to work to get a relationship?”

“No, no,” Yoongi shook his head. “No, I'm...” Yoongi was quiet for a long time, his fingers fiddling with the zippers on his jacket. “...I'm scared of doing all the work, doing everything right, and failing anyway.”

Seokjin didn't have anything to say to that. He drove Yoongi back to his apartment and offered to walk him upstairs, to which Yoongi shook his head and smiled. “I'll be okay,” he chirped, struggling out of his seatbelt and looking at Seokjin over the console before he leaned forward and pressed a kiss to Seokjin's startled mouth, tasting like triple-sec and orange juice. “Um,” he started, flushing a little, not quite pulling away. “Um, I had a—a really good time--” he leaned in for another kiss and Seokjin gave it to him, licked against his lips and teeth until Yoongi made this tiny little moaning sound that went straight to Seokjin's dick. He reached up to put one hand on Yoongi's neck and felt his pulse thumping hard.

“Do,” Yoongi was asking, hot against Seokjin's lips between kisses. “Do you want, want to come upstairs?”

“Not tonight,” Seokjin murmured, though he kissed Yoongi soundly on the mouth to silence his little protesting noise. “Not tonight, Yoongiyah, but. Sometime soon, I promise, okay? Just not when you've been drinking.”

“I know what I'm doing,” Yoongi protested, scowling a little, and Seokjin kissed his eyebrow.

“I know, but I'd really rather do this while we're both...” He sucked at Yoongi's ear, the soft skin beneath it. “Mmm. Haven't been drinking all night, okay?”

“Promise?” Yoongi asked, and Seokjin kissed his throat, bit in and sucked softly, a promise, indeed.

“Yes.”

~

“Namjoon,” Seokjin complained, and Namjoon looked up from where he was sitting on the couch (so many of their conversations started this way) to take in the view of Seokjin's kiss-swollen lips and the bulge in his pants. “Nam _joon._ ”

“How'd it go,” he asked, reaching forward to grab Seokjin by the belt and pull his pants off, even as Seokjin ripped his own shirt over his head, jacket already lost, undershirt abandoned.

“ _God,_ I want him,” he groaned, getting one leg up onto the couch and moaning loudly when the tip of his erection was sucked into Namjoon's mouth, cradled by his tongue. “Fuck, I want to fuck him till he's _crying._ ”

“Sounds brutal,” Namjoon observed, moving his head back down to patiently at Seokjin's cock, hollowing his cheeks and tightening his lips on the pullback when Seokjin was tearing at his own hair and raking a hand over his chest. Namjoon wrapped one arm around Seokjin's thigh to keep him close while his free hand fondled his balls. “Tell me about it, babe.”

Seokjin groaned softly when Namjoon let his jaw slack and let him thrust slow into his mouth and throat. “God, I want to fuck him slow and hard... He's so _small,_ Namjoonah, aah... Bet he'd look so good on your dick, so good on mine.” There was a wet popping sound every time Seokjin pulled his hips back and distantly Namjoon was grateful for his weak gag reflex. “Nnnd I want him to fucking cum so hard he blacks out, shit... Shit, Namjoon--” Namjoon closed his lips and pulled back just enough to let Seokjin cum on his tongue, letting the mess leak from the sides of his mouth as Seokjin push-pulled, thighs twitching.

“God, that's beautiful,” Seokjin murmured, reaching down to rub his thumb over the cum and saliva at the corners of Namjoon's mouth, painting his fat lips with it before bending to suck it all away, straddling Namjoon's lap. “Oh, baby.”

Namjoon got up and brought Seokjin with him. He was a skinny fuck, but he could carry his lover as far as the bedroom, and that was as far as they needed to go.

~

Operation: Fuck Min Yoongi occupied a good amount of Seokjin's thoughts. It was almost gross, really. He sort of hated it, because Yoongi was small and angry and fiery and Namjoon was tall and calm and Seokjin was in love with him, so he was sort of freaked out by the amount of time he was spending _obsessing_ over Yoongi.

“You're definitely spending a lot of time on this one,” Namjoon observed.

“He needs to be handled with care,” Seokjin said, frowning. “I just didn't expect it to involve... This much.”

“So are you doing this because you want to fuck him or because you like him.”

“I don't... Know,” Seokjin deflated, looking distressed. Namjoon leaned over to kiss his cheek.

“We've been over this. I told you it's okay.”

“Not if he wants to get in a relationship, it's not.”

“Says who?”

“Him, probably?! He was with the same guy for _four years,_ Namjoon, a guy he never had sex with, like how can I just-- Oh, by the way, I have a boyfriend and we're into sharing so I hope you don't mind?!”

“That might not go over so well,” Namjoon admitted, and Seokjin buried his face into a pillow to scream. “But I can always walk in on you.”

“You don't think that would freak him out?”

“Well. It might, but.” Namjoon shrugged. “It's just a thought.”

“Mm. Okay. Real life is not a Sean Cody porn film, Kim Namjoon.”

~

The party _had_ scored Yoongi some freelance jobs, so the next time he and Seokjin got together it was for a quiet dinner near Yoongi's apartment. Yoongi was eying him suspiciously, and Seokjin laughed brightly, crossing his legs over one another and tucking his chin into his palm.

“What, it was just a question!”

“You just asked me if I'm into threesomes,” Yoongi said, and Seokjin shrugged.

“I didn't think it was that weird a question.”

“What do you define as a weird question, exactly,” Yoongi asked, and Seokjin touched his lips thoughtfully. He made sure to let his tongue touch his fingertips as he straightened up.

“Like, sex questions? How about, like, do you want to wear women's clothes.” He took great, vicious joy in the way Yoongi flushed. Oh ho. The more Seokjin paid attention, the more it seemed to him that Yoongi just liked to be dominated. Not in his every day life, no—he took charge of that, he was incredibly fastidious and meticulous and would never allow anyone to take control over his life but in the bedroom, hm. “Would you like that?” he asked, leaning closer, breathing into Yoongi's ear and neck, grateful for the rounded booth they'd been sat in. “Wearing a skirt, lace panties... How about calling your lover _Father,_ mm?”

Yoongi jerked and stared at Seokjin and for a moment Seokjin thought he was going to run. He reached to grip his arm to keep him still. He kissed his hand, the inside of his wrist. Yoongi always wore his cross and he went to church every Sunday, he'd told Seokjin. That way, he could stay on good terms with the priesthood so he could take pictures in the church if he wanted.

Seokjin trailed his lips up Yoongi's forearm, kissed his inner elbow and was rewarded with a violent shudder, with Yoongi baring his teeth, his eyebrows furrowed in something close to distress.

“I bet you fantasize about it,” Seokjin whispered into his ear, lips brushing the skin. “I bet that's why you have that picture in the confessional, huh? Why you wouldn't let him fuck you on a dorm room floor... You have standards, Yoongiyah, and he didn't meet them.”

“I,” Yoongi swallowed and Seokjin grinned, because he was winning, he was so close, Yoongi was so close to _his._ Yoongi was squirming, his breath shallow and uneven. “H-hyung--”

“Would you call me _Father_ while I fuck you?”

There was a moment of silence. Yoongi stared over the table, his brow furrowed, his eyes wide and his lips parted to let his tongue slick over them. His legs were pressed tight together, and one of his hands was fisted in Seokjin's shirt near his belt, the other braced on the table. “I,” he breathed, looking at Seokjin, who looked back at him.

“I want to have sex with you,” Seokjin breathed, his voice low. “I want to make it so good for you, Yoongiyah. Would you let me? Seokjin's hand traced over his thigh and to his groin, cupping over it carefully. Yoongi was hard. “Please?”

“Please,” Yoongi whispered, trembling. “Please, hyung.”

“Tell me what you want,” Seokjin said.

“I want you,” Yoongi replied, and Seokjin leaned in to kiss his mouth, slow and deep.

~

Four months.

Seokjin had been waiting _four months_ and now he was in Min Yoongi's bedroom, as spartan as he'd expected it to be, looking down at the young man spread on the bed beneath him. Yoongi was flushed with embarrassment, arousal and probably worry. Seokjin knelt on the floor between his legs to look up at him, smiling tenderly despite the position he was in having an inherently sexual connotation. He knew Yoongi was hard. He knew Yoongi was breathless but this had to be done _properly._

“Are you sure you want to do this?” Seokjin asked, and Yoongi nodded his head, jerking up and down. “Yoongiyah. Are you sure?”

“I think so,” he admitted, licking his lips, biting into the bottom one. “I. I mean I _want._ ”

“You'll tell me if you want me to stop,” Seokjin stated. That was just fact. Yoongi looked surprised, his eyebrows going up, but nodded. His shoulders relaxed in something like relief and Seokjin had to wonder how hard Yoongi'd had to fight to keep his ex from getting what he wanted, right there on the dorm room floor.

“I will.”

“Promise?”

“I promise.”

“Good,” Seokjin said, hands moving down to the buckle of Yoongi's belt, the tight denim of his jeans. “God, I want to suck you. Been thinking about it for _weeks._ ”

“W-weeks?” Yoongi asked, gasping in surprise when Seokjin jerked his pants off, his underclothes with them, in one powerful pull. Seokjin smiled up at him, leaving his leans around his ankles and parting his knees to get closer, reaching to hold the shaft of Yoongi's cock in one hand. Soft, hot, rosy and uncut. Seokjin groaned as he pulled his fist down and exposed the wet tip, licking at the skin to the tune of Yoongi's startled gasp, his fingers digging into Seokjin's shoulders.

“Yeah,” he said, rubbing his tongue across the shaft, mouthing at the skin. “Yeah, thought about sucking you off in the car the night you kissed me, you were so pretty Yoongiyah,” Seokjin got his mouth around Yoongi's cock and bobbed his head, enough to make Yoongi squirm, pinning his hips down with his forearm. “Fuck, so good,” he let his own saliva make the slide of his hand easier, feeling Yoongi's legs flex and strain, kissing his tense belly. “So _hard_ for me, aren't you, Yoongiyah.”

“Yes,” Yoongi breathed, panted really. If the way he'd reacted to the talking in the restaurant had been any indication it would be more than the hand on his dick doing him in. The words Seokjin used as weapons would have a role in it, too.

“Such a pretty cock, so hard. You're so _pretty,_ Yoongi.” He pushed Yoongi's thighs open as far as they would go and licked at his balls, sucking them into his mouth while Yoongi fell back into the bed and strained up, fingers tearing at his bedsheets. “Mmm.” Seokjin pulled up and licked up the hot skin before bending forward and forcing his head down. He was rewarded with a strangled yelp, Yoongi's hands finding his shoulders as he bobbed his head, making sure to be messy about it.

“Hyung,” Yoongi was panting, but Seokjin pulled up, grinned up at him as he bit the inside of one pale, pale thigh.

“I thought I told you to call me _Father._ ” Yoongi's cock gave a hard twitch as he stared down at Seokjin in shock, lips open, eyes wide. Seokjin grinned, licked his tip. “Call me _Father._ ”

“H-hyung--” Yoongi gasped when Seokjin bullied his hips up, licking the curve of his backside and biting in, dangerously close to his perineum and just hard enough to hurt. “F,” he started, shivering, and he didn't manage to get the word out until Seokjin's tongue licked up the skin between his cheeks, wet and hot. “Father.”

“Louder,” Seokjin said, licking his tongue over the skin, using both hands to hold Yoongi's cheeks apart. “Come on, Yoongiyah. Tell me what you want.”

“F... Father, please,” Yoongi breathed, and Seokjin felt his ass clench up, felt his belly tighten up so hard his back curled. He was flushed from chest to hairline, his lips and nipples dark pink. “Please, I need.”

“What do you need,” Seokjin asked, pulling back to rip Yoongi's jeans and underwear off of his ankles, tossing them aside and re-adjusting so Yoongi would hold his own legs under the knees, his back flat on the bed. One of Seokjins hands pressed palm to balls, his fingertips rubbing gently at the length of Yoongi's dick. “Tell me what you need.”

“Please,” Yoongi whimpered, squirming underneath him. “I ne. Need you.”

“How do you need me,” Seokjin asked, knowing he was being cruel but Yoongi was blushed and alarmed and _beautiful,_ holding his legs up, lips bitten as he trembled and his little hole clenched up tight before relaxing. “Do you need me to put my fingers in you, mm? To open you up?” He asked this idly, even as he reached into his pocked for the little packet of lube he'd brought with him. “Is that what you want?”

“Yes,” Yoongi panted, nodding, whining at the sight of Seokjin squeezing lubricant out onto his fingers and the press of one digit against him. “Oh god yes please. Father, please,” he added as an afterthought, and Seokjin wondered just how far that little kink would go. He'd have to find out.

“Please what.”

“Please put your fingers in me,” Yoongi said, and Seokjin smirked. What was that he'd said about Yoongi? Virgin? Prude? Slut-in-the-making? He'd been right, of course. He knew a virgin when he saw one—and he knew potential when he saw it. “Please,” Yoongi was lifting his hips towards Seokjin's hand, and Seokjin rewarded him by sinking one finger into him, up to the knuckles. Yoongi groaned and Seokjin was surprised at how relaxed he was—not as tight as he'd been expecting.

...Ah.

“Someone's been playing with himself,” Seokjin accused, and Yoongi flushed, even as Seokjin squirmed a second finger into him without much trouble. “Someone's been fucking himself, mm? What do you use, Yoongiyah, a toy? Your fingers? Tell me,” he bent over and kissed Yoongi's belly. “Confess.”

“I,” Yoongi was moving on Seokjin's fingers all on his own, rocking his hips. “I u... use my fingers.”

“To fuck yourself.”

“...to fuck myself,” Yoongi whispered.

“Do you cum?”

“Yes, nn--”

“Who do you think of when you do that, huh?” Seokjin squeezed a bit more lube onto his fingers and squirmed in a third, feeling the strain as Yoongi lifted his body up. He was so tight, but relaxing quickly. “Tell me.”

“Aaahyou,” Yoongi panted, wiggling his backside back and forth. “You, I think of you on top of me, fucking me, ah, please--”

Seokjin took a moment to enjoy the sight. Yoongi, breathless, blushed, trying to fuck himself down onto Seokjin's fingers and so hard he was dripping onto his belly, sweat making his skin shine in the low light, his hair sticking to his forehead. What a pretty picture he made. “Do you want me to fuck you,” Seokjin asked, bending to suck at the top of Yoongi's cock. The sound of his startled shout was music to his ears. “Tell me what you want.”

“Fuck, I want, I want you to fuck me, please, Seokji— _Father,_ Father please fuck me, I need it, I need you.”

“You shameless slut,” Seokjin laughed, yanking Yoongi to the edge of the bed and standing. “Get my pants open. Suck me with that filthy little mouth.”

Yoongi was all too eager, his fingers trembled as he got Seokjin's pants down and off, eagerly mouthing at his cock before sucking it in, bobbing his head with no finesse but enough eagerness to make up for it. Clearly he'd done it before, but didn't have a lot of practice. Seokjin would fix that.

“Ah, pull back to the tip, use your tongue, yes... Just like that, Yoongiyah, yes, good boy,” Seokjin reached to hold his own dick in his hand and slap it against Yoongi's lips and tongue. He was rewarded with a loud moan and Yoongi's legs jerking open as he spoke, the sound garbled, _father please._

“Such a good boy,” Seokjin purred, squeezing out the last of the lubricant to slick himself, pushing Yoongi up and bed and getting between his legs.

“ _Yes,”_ Yoongi gasped, eyes wide open as he reached to hold his legs apart. Seokjin thought, maybe he should stop, maybe he should ask, but Yoongi's hands were reaching for his hips to pull him closer, holding his dick to guide him in and when he pushed forward Yoongi wailed, threw his head back and tried to work himself down. Slut, indeed. Yoongi panted, squirmed, _yes father yes yes yes please I need it please give me your cock_ and Seokjin sank balls-deep before closing his eyes and holding Yoongi's hips, just pressed into him and listening to him moan.

It was rare that Seokjin got to top Namjoon. And while Namjoon went along with his little games because he knew it pleased Seokjin, he certainly wasn't as... _Into_ the play as Yoongi was. Yoongi's first time and he'd thrown himself off into the deep end, shivering on his back, his legs trembling, his fingertips on Seokjin's belly as he looked up at him through his hair and whispered, _father, please_ and honestly if he said it wasn't one of the hottest things he'd ever experienced, Seokjin would be lying.

“Yoongiyah,” he breathed, bending down to kiss Yoongi's soft, wet lips. He had to be sure before this went even a fucking minute further. Yoongi opened his eyes and stared up at him, fingers cool on his shoulders. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” he nodded, swallowing hard and gasping when Seokjin's body weight shifted on the bed. “Yes, it-- I'm fine, it feels... Feels good, hyung.”

“Promise?” Seokjin asked, kissing Yoongi's neck and collarbones.

“I promise,” he said, smiling a little sheepishly, reaching to pull Seokjin up for a kiss and moaning softly into it. His other hand worked up and down his cock, and Seokjin pulled back to get the full view, smirking when Yoongi flushed but didn't stop. Stubborn little brat. “Aah.”

“There's a good boy,” Seokjin purred, reaching down to trace his fingers over Yoongi's wet lips as he started to move his hips in a deep, slow rhythm. He didn't think this would last long. Not with Yoongi trembling like that, not with Seokjin so fucking turned on he thought he might actually explode. “Will you be good? Be good and come for me, Yoongiyah, I want to see it.”

“Ahhyung--”

“Can you imagine,” Seokjin murmured, slipping his fingers into Yoongi's mouth, swiping them against his lips, “Sucking someone's cock right now.” Yoongi's entire body arched up and his hand tightened on his cock. Seokjin smirked and moved fasted. “Someone coming in your beautiful mouth, Yoongiyah, while I fuck this perfect little ass, mmm,” he rubbed his fingertips against Yoongi's mouth, tapped them against his lips and was pleasantly surprised when Yoongi made a distressed noise and tightened up, jerking his head back, clenching down around his dick so hard that for a moment, Seokjin was convinced he might actually squeeze it off. He came on his belly, playing with his tip and the sight was fucking _incredible._

“Oh god,” Yoongi was panting, collapsing back to the bed, hips flexing as Seokjin kept thrusting. “Oh god oh godohgod.” Seokjin grunted, bent forward to brace himself on his forearms and bite at Yoongi's lips.

“M'gonna cum--” he warned, gasping when Yoongi shoved him up, eyes wild and bright as he wiggled away.

“In my mouth,” he was panting. “In my mouth in my mouth hyung--”

Seokjin had very little to do with what followed. Stupefied he stayed where he was while Yoongi shifted, wrapped his hand around the shaft and suckled the tip of Seokjin's dick into his little mouth and stayed there, making the most vulgar, obscene, _wet_ sounds as he stroked. Seokjin dropped off the edge of orgasm at the sight, the feeling of Yoongi's hand wrapped around his cock, the silver of his rings cool and glinting, his lips wet and soft. For a long moment there was nothing Seokjin could do but try to remain upright, eyes wide and dick _throbbing._

Holy shit.

_Holy shit._

~

“He wanted me to cum in his _mouth,_ ” Seokjin hissed, riding up and down on Namjoon's cock on the couch, hands tangled in his hair. “He _made me cum in his mouth,_ oh my god Namjoon, all I could see was your dick in his throat, he's such a little baby slut, _fuck._ ”

“So bring him over,” Namjoon said, leaning forward to lick at Seokjin's nipples, one hand fisting his cock in an easy rhythm. “I want to see for myself.”

“I want to,” Seokjin panted, moving harder. “Oh god I want to, Namjoon--” The mental image of Namjoon fucking Yoongi into the floor kicked Seokjin off the edge. He came in a splatter, squeezing tight and biting his lip, grinding his hips down until he felt Namjoon grab his waist and hold him in place. “Namjoon,” he panted, bending down to kiss him, to slide their lips together until his legs stopped shaking. “God, I love you.”

“I know,” Namjoon laughed, leaning back into the couch and bringing Seokjin with him, kissing his cheeks, chin and shoulders. “But what are you gonna do about Yoongi, huh? You said yourself, might not be the best idea to just. Drop me on him. He is a religious hipster nerd.”

“He's not a _nerd,_ ”

“He takes photos with a film camera. He's a nerd.”

“He's an _artist._ ”

“Oh my god.”

~

Yoongi was reclining back into his couch when Seokjin asked, “Remember when I asked you about threesomes?”

“...Yeah?” he said, turning to look over at his older friend. “Why, what about it?”

“Well. How do you feel about them?”

“Not... Bad, I guess? Why, you wanna have one?”

“I was thinking about it,” Seokjin said, smiling at the way Yoongi blushed. How he could still blush, Seokjin had _no_ idea. They'd had sex more in the last four weeks than he could count on both hands and Yoongi was... Well. He played a real good prude hipster nerd. In public. In private it was another thing entirely, like then: he was flushed from chest to ears, pursing his lips.

“I guess... I could be into that. Someone you know, right?”

“Yeah, someone I know. Trust. We've been hooking up off and on for a long time, so I just thought it might be nice for the two of you to... Get to know one another.”

Seokjin hadn't been secretive about the fact that he screwed other people (Namjoon. No one but Namjoon.) It hadn't seemed to bother Yoongi, though Yoongi didn't have sex with anyone else. He 'just didn't want to,' or so he'd said, but apparently if Seokjin was initiating a threesome than it was all right? God he was weird.

“That could be okay,” Yoongi nodded, pushing his glasses up. “When did you want to do that?”

“Well you're wrapping up that project next week right?”

“Mm,” he nodded. Seokjin smiled.

“How about next weekend? I'll rent a place at the beach or something, it'll be quiet, since it's almost fall now. Sound okay?”

“Sounds like a pretty romantic getaway,” Yoongi said, one eyebrow cocked up into his hair.

“Maybe it will be,” Seokjin laughed. “I'll bring champagne, you bring the ice cream, Namjoon'll bring the candles.”

“Namjoon?”

“Ah, that's the guys name.”

“Namjoon.” Yoongi smiled, said it one more time, as though to taste the way it fit in his mouth. “Namjoon.”

~

“...Okay you told me he was cute, you didn't tell me he was _small._ ”

“I did _too,_ ” Seokjin hissed, waving to Yoongi as he got off the bus at the station. “Yoongiyah!”

“Hyung,” he smiled, the expression turning to curiosity as he walked closer. “Namjoon...hyung?”

“Oh, no,” Namjoon shook his head, turned on his best smile and Seokjin wanted to kiss his dimples. “Kim Namjoon. You're Min Yoongi-hyung, right? Nice to meet you.”

“Aah, why are you taller than me,” Yoongi complained, though it was good-natured. “Anyway. We gotta catch a bus, right?”

“Mmmhm,” Seokjin nodded, heading off to get their tickets squared away, leaving Namjoon and Yoongi to walk beside one another and hopefully survive their awkward first conversation.

“So... How do you know Seokjin?” Yoongi asked, turning to look at Namjoon, who couldn't help but stare. In his flannel, overlaid with a denim jacket, his rolled-up skinnies and boots, the bag that was slung over his body, cradled by his back and his big glasses, Yoongi was every inch the hipster nerd Namjoon remembered from that afternoon in the cafe. He was even still wearing his cross and his rings. He was gorgeous.

“I've known him a long time,” Namjoon nodded. “We grew up together.”

“Aah,” Yoongi seemed to wilt a little, but just a little, and Namjoon had an inkling that maybe Yoongi was taking this more seriously than Seokjin was. Seokjin... Well. He didn't mean to, but he was flighty sometimes, and if he hadn't been paying enough attention it meant that the two of them might end up _hurting_ Yoongi, which... Wasn't part of the plan at all.

He tried not to think about it, instead letting his hand catch Yoongi's so they could jog and catch up to Seokjin. “Well,” he said, once they'd managed. “Lets try to get to know each other better this weekend, okay?”

He couldn't decide if he was relieved when Yoongi smiled at him, pushed his hair out of his eyes and under his beanie. He couldn't decide because Yoongi looked like the one who was going to get his heart broken.

“Lets!”

~

Namjoon wasn't sure what he'd meant by, _get to know one another better,_ but he was fairly sure that he _hadn't_ meant to join Yoongi in the shower while Seokjin sat on the counter and whistled like some kind of ignorant bystander, the piece of shit.

“Oh come on, you two,” Seokjin waved his hand. “Multi-function shower. Get cleaned up, also get comfortable.”

“Do you have to sit there,” Namjoon asked, scowling even as he got undressed and pretended not to notice Yoongi watching him. “You're like. The most shameless voyeur in the history of the fucking world.”

“Yoongiyah likes being watched~” Seokjin said, and Namjoon turned to look at him to confirm. The blush told him everything he needed to know.

“Don't make him uncomfortable,” Namjoon chided. “Come on, hyung, let us do it by ourselves, okay? We'll be out in a while.”

Seokjin pouted, though he had the decency to look at least a little sheepish. “Don't have too much fun without me,” he said, and he hopped off the counter, disappearing through the door. Namjoon practically _felt_ the waves of relief rolling off of Yoongi, who stood near the shower in nothing but his undershirt and underwear.

“Sorry about that,” Namjoon said, pulling off his t-shirt. Yoongi shook his head a little, smiling. “No, really. He should know better than to put you on the spot like that.”

“It's not that big a deal,” Yoongi promised. “Besides, I mean. He wasn't lying. I do like it.”

“Like what.”

“Being watched.”

Namjoon paused, and looked at Yoongi, who was bent over the side of the tub to turn on the hot water. Seokjin had already had a shower, but it still took a few minutes for the water to get warm. “While you're doing what?”

“...Almost anything,” Yoongi replied, pursing his lips. “Seokjin... He likes to watch me get ready.”

“For what,” Namjoon asked, his mouth dry. He knew _exactly_ for what, but he wanted to watch Yoongi _say_ it.

“For sex,” he replied, looking over his shoulder and looking at Namjoon, gauging before speaking again. “He likes to watch me get ready for sex.” Okay, so it hadn't been the being watched that had made Yoongi nervous. Maybe it was just Namjoon then, the idea of adding this stranger to their relationship. “Do you want to watch?”

“I think maybe... It'd be better for me to get you ready,” he said. “I like getting people ready.”

“Do you usually... Top, Seokjin?”

“Usually,” Namjoon said and wow, was that just the steam from the tub or was it getting warm, as Yoongi trailed his fingertips down Namjoon's chest and looked up at him through his hair. “Why?”

“You're gonna top me, right?”

“If,” Namjoon felt strangled. Yoongi was small and thin but Namjoon had the distinct feeling that he was the one in control here, as he shivered underneath those cool fingertips. “If you want me to.”

“I do,” Yoongi replied, glancing down, then back up, his fingers sliding down the front of Namjoon's jeans, cupping his groin, giving his dick a squeeze. “God, it's big. Seokjin told me it was.”

“He _told y--_ ” but then Yoongi was rubbing his fingers along the lines of Namjoon's cock and Namjoon was irrationally pissed, because Seokjin had _told_ Yoongi things (but of course he had, he'd told Namjoon things about Yoongi so why wouldn't he have done it the other way?) But Yoongi's hand was small and warm, and his other hand was working his belt off, his jeans down, and he was only wearing his tanktop and underwear, sitting on the edge of the tub. “Fuck.”

“Yeah,” Yoongi smiled a gummy, silly smile and Namjoon knew he was doomed. Shit. A smile like that, that accent, those small hands and the scent of Yoongi's skin, something mossy and oily, it all doomed him.

“That's the idea.”

~

Seokjin sighed softly as he listened to the sounds coming from the bathroom. Namjoon's low cursing, Yoongi's gasps of surprise. He could imagine what was happening but he wanted to _know,_ and he was sore about being left out, damn it. He worked very hard to ignore his erection until the bathroom door opened and out spilled the two of them, skin like coffee and cream as Namjoon walked Yoongi to the bed and deposited him, smirking.

“He's ready for you,” he said, and Seokjin laughed, both at the choice of words and the fierce blush on Yoongi's pretty little face. He pulled off his robe and laid back, cupping Yoongi's face with one hand. He stroked his thumb over that tellingly swollen lower lip, rubbed his tongue and front teeth and made sure to tilt Yoongi's head so he could see what Seokjin's other hand was doing: stroking his cock up and down, slow, already hard from the noises filtering through the wall.

“Then he should get on me, right?” Seokjin asked, and Yoongi swallowed, nodding, straddling over Seokjin's hips and starting to lower his weight. “Wait, wait,” Seokjin breathed, sitting up and motioning to Namjoon. “Lube.” Namjoon rolled his eyes. “I don't care how well you think you did, gimme the bottle.” Namjoon tossed him the bottle and Yoongi sighed, offering his fingers to be slicked and moving them back to work them into himself with almost no effort. Seokjin groaned when those fingers wrapped around his erection and Yoongi guided himself down, breathless gasps until he was seated, legs parted, body leaning back into Namjoon, who rubbed his thighs and kissed his neck.

“Oh, fuck,” Seokjin groaned, and Yoongi sighed, gave a grunt when Seokjin's hips kicked up. “ _God_ you're so fucking good. _Love_ your ass, shit.”

“Ah,” Yoongi breathed, hands on Seokjin's chest. He'd never really gotten the hang of talking outside of... _Roleplay_ was what Seokjin had called it, but he tried. It was cute. “Feels good,” he said, groaning then a thrust kicked his weight forward and he landed on his hands. “Aah, hyung--”

“ _Shit,_ ” Seokjin snarled, his legs jerking apart, pushing Yoongi's legs up and causing him to yelp in alarm. Namjoon's fingers, two of them, were pressed into him while Namjoon smirked and fisted his own cock, shrugging. _Sorry, not sorry._

“Hyung,” Namjoon said, kissing Yoongi's shoulder. “Hyung, suck me.” Yoongi looked dazed as he sat up, braced one hand on Namjoon's hip and got his mouth around his length, his body still aside from the occasional shudder. His hand moved to replace Namjoons, while peeking up at him through his hair. “Mm, just that that.” Namjoon could _see_ Seokjin's impatience, but he could also see his lover watching his dick disappear into Yoongi's mouth, so he could deal with it for a few more minutes.

Yoongi's cross was shining on his chest. He'd taken off his rings in the bathroom, but not his cross and Namjoon wanted to... Well. He didn't know what he wanted to do. He _did_ know he wanted the chance to _completely_ debauch Yoongi, who had blushed when he kissed the tip of Namjoon's cock, who gasped and held on to him when they kissed. Baby slut, indeed.

“Have you ever fucked hyung before, Yoongi,” he asked, smirking at the shake of his head. He moved down to kiss Yoongi, to speak against his lips even as Seokjin's hips rolled up to fuck into Yoongi's smaller body. It was a fucking hot image, Yoongi's eyes half-open, lips parted, panting for air, gasping when Seokjin moved hard. “Do you want to.”

“Namjoon--”

“Shut up,” he said, and Seokjin groaned in displeasure, throwing his head back into the pillows while Yoongi blinked up at him, somewhat dazed. “Do you want to fuck him?”

“I,” he started, nodding after a moment. “Yeah. Yeah, I do.”

“Then get off his dick, and come here.”

Yoongi struggled up—whimpered a little and shit that was hot, the sweat on his shoulders shining in the dim light as Seokjin drew up his legs and sighed, shifting his back to get comfortable. Namjoon knelt behind Yoongi, reached down between his legs to grip his cock and guide him. “Come on,” he said quietly. “Like this, get comfortable, that's right. Yeah, go ahead, push,” Yoongi nudged his hips forward and Seokjin sighed, lazily reclining back into one arm, folded under his head. “Go on, it's okay. He's a big cockslut, he can take it. Can't you, hyung,” Namjoon asked, and Seokjin sighed, wiggling his hips and reaching down to hold Yoongi's hips. He pulled Yoongi in closer and closer.

“Oh,” Yoongi whispered, gasping when Namjoon mouthed at the back of his neck.

“And you can take me, can't you?”

“Y, yeah,” Yoongi breathed, bending forward to kiss Seokjin's chest and shiver, exposing his ass. Namjoon grinned and got up closer behind him, squeezed lube out into his hand and fisted himself, rubbing his tip against the soft, loosened clench. “Oh god,” Yoongi choked, and Namjoon smoothed a hand down his back.

“Shh, relax, hyung. I'll go slow, okay? I'll go slow.”

“Okay,” Yoongi whispered, and Namjoon bit down on the insides of his cheeks, even as he pushed forward, even as he buried his dick in a near-complete stranger, because Yoongi had whispered _okay_ and looked back over his shoulder and now, now as Namjoon took hard, shuddering breaths and fought to keep still, Yoongi was reaching to hold his hand, breathing slow and shallow. Yoongi's other hand was clenched up in Seokjin's, and he was strung between the two of them like a pendant on a chain.

Min Yoongi was holding Namjoon's hand, and Namjoon made a promise to himself not to drop his heart.

~

“So you, you do photography, right?”

“Mm,” Yoongi nodded, laid out on one of the queen sized beds, nude beneath the covers. “Yeah I do a lot of freelance work right now, some editing and stuff. Nothing exciting.”

“Do you have a day job?”

“Of course,” Yoongi laughed, looking sleepy. “Yeah, I work in an art supply store for the school. I think they keep me around because I know where everything is. But they'll probably let me go at the end of the year, so I'm looking for something permanent. What about you?”

“Oh, I do numbers,” Namjoon said, sitting cross-legged while Seokjin half-napped behind him. “Accounting, asset management for a few high-profile clients, that kind of thing.”

“...That sounds really hard.”  
“It's a high stress job, sometimes.” The silence fell over them like snow, and Namjoon got up to get beneath the covers with Yoongi, crowding into his personal space and peering curiously at him. Yoongi stared back, blinking.

“What,” he asked.

“Just wanted to look at you,” Namjoon replied, pushing back Yoongi's bangs and taking in his hairline, the shape of his eyebrows and the wrinkles at the corners of his eyes from smiling. “You're from Daegu, right? You've got an accent.”

“I try really hard to not have an accent,” Yoongi admitted, and Namjoon laughed.

“It's nice, though. Singular. Did you take pictures in Daegu, too?”

“I take pictures all the time,” Yoongi replied. “My camera's in my bag, right now.”

“Oh? Can I take some pictures of you?”

“Why?”

“I want to try.”

Yoongi narrowed his eyes but nodded—Namjoon reached for the bag and dragged it up onto the bed to find the large SLR, making an _oooh_ noise as he lifted it. “It's the fancy kind,” he said, and Yoongi laughed. “What kind of lens does it have on?”

“Fifty milimeters,” Yoongi replied, shivering when Namjoon pulled the blankets down and fumbled a bit with the camera before turning it on him.

“I don't see anything.”

“You have to take the lens cap off,” he said, reaching to pull it off and smiling at Namjoon who had the camera pushed up to his face. “Better?”

“So, it has a set focus point, right?”

“Mmm.”

“Right,” Namjoon fiddled with it a few moments more before he took a picture of Yoongi, glancing down at the screen and smiling.

“What,” Yoongi asked. “Let me see,”

“You're gorgeous,” Namjoon replied, snapping another picture. And another, and another, and another.

~

A photo album of their small trip was sent to both of them, with identical pictures and only slightly varying captions. There was a sweet dedication on the first page, personalized for them, and Seokjin felt his gut sink with guilt. _I had a wonderful time with you._

“Namjoon,” he said, tracing Yoongi's looping signature, his gummy smile in the photo that the three of them had a stranger take at the beach at the end of their four-day weekend. “Namjoon I think. I think I might like Yoongi a lot more than I planned to.”

“...Yeah,” Namjoon said, tracing his fingers over a picture of himself and Yoongi in bed, asleep, with Yoongi spooned up against his back. “Yeah, we. I think we've got a problem, hyung.”

~

“...Oh.”

Seokjin swallowed hard, felt his heart drop down into his gut as Yoongi blinked at him, then to Namjoon, and then at the floor, nodding like he must have nodded when he was rejected for the job he'd applied for two weeks ago, nodding like he must have nodded at his ex-boyfriend when he said he didn't want him anymore but Seokjin wanted him, god, Seokjin wanted him and Namjoon wanted him to but they had to be honest, they had to tell the truth—

_We've been together a long time, and... And I think we'd like to be in a relationship with you, Yoongiyah. If. If that's okay?_

_Oh._

“Yoongi,” Seokjin breathed, feeling panic starting to claw up his chest, shredding the insides of his lungs.

“I think I,” he started.

“Yoongi please,”

“--need to go, for--”

“Yoongi please don't do this--”

“For a while, okay? Um. Please don't...”

He smiled, he smiled and it was awful, because his eyes weren't smiling. Because his cheeks were flushed but not with pleasure, because his voice was thready and weak but not because he was coming back from a round of passionate sex but because Seokjin dropped his heart and it shattered on the floor.

“Please don't call me.”

“Yoongi wait. Yoongi wait, please--”

It was only Namjoon's hand on Seokjin's waist that kept him from getting up, from chasing after Min Yoongi in his skinny jeans and sweater, his big fluffy scarf and stupid, huge glasses. It was only Namjoon's voice in his ear that kept him from crying, _come on hyung, lets go home_ but even Namjoon's hand in his own couldn't take away the taste of Yoongi's hello kiss, _iced white cappuccino_ and the grapefruit of his chapstick.

~

“...I deserved that,” Seokjin said.

“ _Damned right_ you did,” Taehyung hissed, his eyes narrow and his accent thick. He was furious, it was clear. He'd abandoned Jimin and whoever they'd been with to stalk right up to Seokjin and, without ceremony, punched him so hard he'd stumbled, though he hadn't bothered to try and block it at all. In fact, Seokjin kind of wished he'd do it again, in the head this time, so he could stop thinking for a while. “What the _fuck,_ Kim Seokjin?”

Normally he'd have been irritated... _I'm your hyung!_ he might have said, but for now he just stared at the floor and rubbed a hand over his face and tried not to cry for the nth time that day, and it was only one in the afternoon. “I don't,” he started, hating that his voice was choked up. “I don't know,” god he was going to have a crying fit right here in public. He was going to start sobbing just like he had when he and Namjoon had closed the door on their apartment, when Yoongi— “I messed up, I really messed up, Taehyung.”

Taehyung wasn't as short as Yoongi, and he wasn't as thin. The hug was comforting anyway, Taehyung holding him tight around the waist and head, as though protecting him from a blow. Seokjin held on tight to his shirt and tried to be quiet as he cried into his shoulder, knowing he didn't deserve it and grateful for it anyway, because Namjoon was distant and neither of them had even brought Yoongi up in three days and they hadn't even kissed and Seokjin felt _alone_ and _stupid_ and he hated himself for not just being honest in the first place, god, he'd treated Yoongi like a fucking conquest, a game to be played and now— ...and now...

“I miss him,” he whispered, sniffling grossly to keep from getting snot all over Taehyung's shoulder. “I didn't, I just, I miss him. I messed up.”

“Yeah,” Taehyung said, rubbing up and down Seokjin's back and pressing his cheek to his ear. “Yeah, you did.”

~

For two weeks, Yoongi didn't answer the phone. He didn't respond to messages, he didn't seek them out. He didn't even get coffee at the cafe. For two weeks Seokjin mourned what could have been, buried himself in work and Namjoon did the same, the two of them coming together only to sleep, to kiss one another's hands and hold them while they laid in silence. For two weeks Seokjin looked at the photo album every day, reliving the moments of Yoongi's laughter, his gasping, his indignant squawking and his smile, god, his beautiful smile. For two weeks he thought about dark eyes behind fairy-floss pink hair, smudged with sleeplessness but bright, nonetheless.

Then, late one evening after an absolutely _shit_ day at his office, he listened to the messages on their home phone. They only had one so they didn't have to give their cell numbers away to anyone who asked, but Yoongi had their cell numbers. He'd called the house on purpose, because he'd known neither of them would pick up.

_Hey Hyung. And... Namjoon. Um. Listen, I've been out in Daegu for the last couple'a weeks n'I thought I should call... I'm really sorry, for just. For fuckin' leaving like that, that was. Stupid of me, m'sorry. M'gonna be back home tomorrow, so if you... If you guys wanna talk about it. It'd be great to see you, I'll. I'll order in that Cantonese place you like so much. I'll see you then, if you. If you wanna come._

“...We're going, right?”

“Of course we're going,” Seokjin said, sighing as he leaned back into Namjoon and put his hand over his eyes. “Of course we're fucking going.” He told himself not to hope. He told himself not to get his hopes up because if he did he was going to be like Icarus, and the reality of Yoongi's rejection was going to send him crashing back to earth, and it had hurt enough the first time.

~

Yoongi's apartment was exactly the way Seokjin remembered it. At least... As far as the view from the doorframe. Yoongi was stepping aside to let them in, holding the door and motioning to the house slippers in the foyer before heading back into the living room, where he'd set plates and cups and chopsticks on the bar between the living room and kitchen. He was wearing skinnies and a big sweater that gave him bear-paws, his feet in his slippers.

(there had been three pairs of slippers.)

They made it through eating with polite conversation, until it seemed Yoongi couldn't handle it anymore. Seokjin was glad—it felt heavy and oppressive, like wearing wet wool, so when Yoongi led them into the living room proper and sat down in a chair, Seokjin gave him all of his attention. Yoongi bit into his lip and opened his mouth to speak. “I'm scared,” he said, and Seokjin looked up at him. He looked like saying that had cost him dearly, like it had that night in the car, _i'm scared of doing all the work, doing everything right and failing anyway._ Seokjin opened his mouth but Yoongi raised his hand. “Wait. Lemme finish. I. I'm scared, okay? I mean you know my history with relationships isn't great, but. But I thought I wanted to try, maybe, but then Namjoon...” he bit his lip and turned to look at Namjoon, his eyes pink at the corners. “You're with Namjoon.”

“We--”

“Let him talk, hyung.”

Namjoon was watching Yoongi intently, his silver hair soft around his face. Yoongi seemed to shrink a bit under the attention and Seokjin couldn't blame him.

“You're with Namjoon. And I didn't... Don't. Want to be anyone's third wheel. But you know...” he looked down at his hands where he sat. “I talked... I talked to Taehyung, and he... You know he's an idiot but sometimes he's a genius and he said, he said _wouldn't it just be a tricycle then, instead of a bike?_ And I did't know what to, to think of that, at first, but.”

He looked up and Seokjin felt hope catch fire in his chest despite all of his efforts. He felt Namjoon shift in the seat beside him.

“But that's what it would be, right? Like a tricycle, instead of... Instead of, I don't know, putting one training wheel on.”

“Did you just compare yourself to a training wheel,” Seokjin choked out, and Yoongi flapped his hands around in embarrassed indignation. “Is that because you're short?”

“Look I'm _not so great_ with the metaphors, okay, just-- _who are you calling short--_ ”

But Seokjin was too busy throwing himself from the couch to kneel at Yoongi's knees, to cup his neck and draw him into a kiss, tasting the after-dinner coffee and grapefruit chapstick, his fingers tangling up into the mint-green hair Yoongi was now sporting to hold him close. He licked at his lips, moaned into his mouth when Yoongi's small hands slid up into his hair to hold him just the same, pulled away panting, reaching for Namjoon, who stood beside them. “Please,” Yoongi whispered. “Please, I.”

Seokjin watched Namjoon bend to kiss him. Watched the fight on equal ground, until Yoongi gave in and let himself be kissed, one hand in Namjoon's shirt, pulling the cloth and probably ruining it with the stretch.

“I want this,” he whispered, voice fierce. “I want this. I'm _fucking scared._ ”

“Don't be,” Namjoon murmured, pressing a kiss to Yoongi's temple, the top curve of his cheek even as Yoongi squinted in something like childish disgust. “We're not gonna let you fall.”

~

“Namjoon what the _fuck,_ ” Yoongi was groaning, putting his head against the freezer. “Namjoon. You _can't_ put peanut butter in the fridge, what is _wrong_ with you.”

“It's an open container!” Namjoon protested while Seokjin snickered where he was putting the dishes into the cabinets. “Open containers go in the fridge.”

“Not all of them!” Yoongi said, pulling said peanut butter out of the fridge and putting it on the counter. “We will discuss this later. Christ. You know, for someone who is supposed to be a genius, you sure are an idiot.”

“Hey!”

Seokjin smiled, leaning back into the counter to watch the two of them bicker until Namjoon pouted and Yoongi lost all will to argue, like he always did. He watched as the two of them kissed, as Yoongi got up on the counter to be able to reach without stretching and Namjoon bent to make it easier. He watched as Yoongi hugged Namjoon, rubbed his back and murmured soft, comforting things in his ear, because Namjoon had been having a hard time at work and had probably just put the peanut butter in the fridge because he'd been so tired, or not thinking, and Seokjin watched and Yoongi kissed Namjoon's newly pink hair, reached out with one hand and made a grabby motion.

“Come on, Joonah,” Yoongi said, as Seokjin made his way over, kissed the back of Namjoon's neck. “Leave it alone, okay? Lets just go to bed.”

“It's seven,” Namjoon protested, and Seokjin knew he would deny to the ends of the earth that his voice was thick.

“So what,” Seokjin asked, carefully disentangling Namjoon from Yoongi's skinny arms. “The bedroom is all done. So lets go to bed, huh? I even put on the nice sheets.”

“All of our sheets are nice,” Namjoon pointed out.

“I put on the plum ones.”

“Purple, it's fucking purple,” Yoongi rolled his eyes and Seokjin slapped him upside the back of his pretty little head.

“ _Plum._ Who's the one with a graphic design degree? Me. Who took color theory and color theory two? Me. It's plum. Now shut up and get off the counter, would you.”

Yoongi rolled his eyes (again, the little shit) but hopped down from the counter and slipped his hand into Namjoon's, smiling tolerantly at Seokjin, who was kissing Namjoon's cheek.

“You're both annoying,” Namjoon said, squeezing Yoongi's hand as they walked to the bedroom. It was large, larger than the one at Seokjin and Namjoon's last apartment. There was a queen-sized bed and a wall basically made of closet, a large en-suite bathroom and three very different dressers, but all that really mattered at that moment was the bed, with it's big down comforter and pillows. Namjoon had been spending very long nights at the office while Yoongi and Seokjin got them all moved into the new place; Namjoon hadn't even _seen_ the bedroom since it had been finished two days ago. So it made Seokjin a little warm-fuzzy to see all the tension bleed out of Namjoon's shoulders as he walked into the room with pale, pale grey walls and the ( _plum_ ) bed, their dressers lining one wall.

“It looks great,” he said, turning to look at Yoongi, kissing him on the mouth before turning to kiss Seokjin. “Can I just go to bed.”

“That was the idea,” Yoongi replied, voice dry as Seokjin laughed.

“Come on, baby,” Seokjin hummed, already working on unbuttoning Namjoon's shirt while Yoongi got his arms free of his blazer. “Lets tuck you in.”

~

Seokjin would have loved to be able to say he was surprised when he walked into the house and right into the sight of Yoongi sitting bare-assed on the counter, knees up around his ears while Namjoon fucked into him using who-knew-what for lubricant (was that the coconut oil on the counter with a spoon sticking out of it? Really now.) but he wasn't. Surprised. Between moving into the new place and finishing the huge project he'd been working on, Seokjin was surprised he hadn't come home to Namjoon tying Yoongi to the bed so he could slow-fuck him into insanity any sooner.

“You two assholes didn't even have the decency to wait for me,” he complained, and Yoongi moaned out a broken _hey_ while Namjoon bit into his neck and the word ended in a choking gasp. Seokjin walked closer to kiss Namjoon's neck, to kiss Yoongi's pink lips. “Look at the fucking mess the two of you made,” he chided.

“His fault,” Namjoon grunted, snapping his hips forward hard. Seokjin cocked his head and gripped Namjoon's hips, pulled him back just far enough to get a good look at what was happening.

...Yoongi was hairless.

“...Well then,” Seokjin said, smirking as he reached down to smooth his fingers over the soft skin around Yoongi's cock, listening to him whine and protest. “That's pretty.”

“He was _showing off,_ ” Namjoon protested, hips kicking, though Seokjin still had an arm around him and didn't seem like he was letting go any time soon. “Shit. Shit, hyung let go, please?”

“I have a better idea,” Seokjin hummed, pushing Namjoon into the counter, listening to Yoongi yelp as he got on his knees and cupped Namjoon's ass in his hands, rubbing at the tense muscles, squeezing his cheeks. “How long's it been, Namjoonah, since I fucked you?”

“ _Months,_ ” Namjoon groaned, pinned to the counter, one hand on the edge, the other around Yoongi's waist. “Fuck, months, hyung.”

“Get me some lube.” Seokjin offered his hand up and it was Yoongi who passed him the spoon, with a hunk of coconut oil in it. He took it and held it in his palm to melt, while his tongue made itself busy between Namjoon's cheeks to the sound of Namjoon cursing and biting at Yoongi's shoulder. “You be nice to him,” Seokjin warned, wiggling one wet finger up into Namjoon, feeling his thighs tense and kissing the curve of his hip. Namjoon was tight, so tight. He liked a good prostate massage as much as Seokjin did but he hadn't been _fucked_ in months, and Seokjin had to be careful. Coconut oil wasn't the best lube, but. You worked with that you had on hand.

“Hyung,” Namjoon choked, dropping his head to Yoongi's chest, dragging Yoongi's body down the counter until he could stand with his own ass out and his dick still buried, panting. Yoongi's thin fingers were stroking through his sweaty, oily hair and Seokjin smiled, pushed in a second finger wet and slow. There was oil dripping down his arm onto his clothes and he had the distant thought that he'd have to get rid of this shirt. “Hyung please.”

“You're too tight, Namjoonie,” Seokjin hummed. “Come on. On the floor. Bring Yoongiyah with you.” He didn't bother taking his fingers out. He stood and Followed Namjoon's motions as he stood up straight and gathered Yoongi up into his arms, carefully lifting him, bringing him to the floor and very nearly dropping him onto the tile. As it was Yoongi just shrieked at the cold, arching up and Namjoon cursed, pushing his hips down hard and trembling.

“Hold still,” he hissed, pressing all his weight down as Yoongi squirmed and clawed at his back.

“Cold,” he gasped, and Seokjin laughed.

“So turn over,” he said, one hand grabbing for the jar of oil to bring it down. Namjoon sat up and Yoongi struggled out from under him, nipples hard, skin broken out into goosebumps as he got up and onto his knees, bent to lick the tip of Namjoon's cock while Seokjin pressed his fingers in just a little bit harder.

“Fuck, hyung,” Namjoon hissed, fisting a hand in Yoongi's hair. “Get your ass back on me.”

“So greedy,” Seokjin observed, watching over Namjoon's shoulder as Yoongi twisted around and pressed his back to Namjoon's chest before bending over, exposing his hairless skin, his ass pink from Namjoon's thrusting, his hole looking soft and raw. “More lube, Namjoonie,” Seokjin murmured, offering the jar to his lover, who scooped oil into his fingers and waited for it to melt before slicking his cock and rubbing his fingertips against Yoongi, who just groaned, his head buried in his arms.

“God, look at his ass,” Seokjin murmured, kissing Namjoon's neck, watching his younger lover's cock push into Yoongi, listening to Yoongi moan softly. “He's such a slut for you, huh? Getting waxed like that. Ass up and still wearing this,” his finger reached to hook around the silver chain of Yoongi's cross. “What good little church-boy wears a crucifix while getting his ass pounded, huh?”

“Hyung,” Namjoon gasped, choked when he pushed hip-to-ass and Seokjin pushed a third finger in, rocking them, stretching him open. “Oh shit, hyung.”

“The first time we had sex,” Seokjin murmured, sucking at Namjoon's throat and bumping his hips against Namjoons, pushing him forward into Yoongi, who was still straining to keep his head up, to keep his necklace from getting broken. “He called me _Father._ ”

“ _Shit,_ ” Namjoon thrust hard and Yoongi shouted, pushing up onto his hands and tipping his head back, eyes wide. “Fuck, fuck fuck.”

“Yoongiyah,” Seokjin hummed, easing his fingers out, licking his lips as he let go of the chain and slicked himself with coconut oil that melted as he rubbed it up and down his cock. “Weren't you such a good little boy that first time, huh? Giving your ass up to me like that. Will you do that for Namjoonie?” Seokjin grinned as he positioned himself, put his tip between Namjoon's cheeks and started to tease-thrust against him. “Call him _Father_ and cum like a fucking whore with his dick in your mouth?”

“ _Hyung,_ ” Namjoon protested as Yoongi whined, dropping back down, spreading his knees and resting his chest on the floor. Seokjin pushed forward slowly and his hands found Yoongi's thighs, pulled him back, up against Namjoon's body until Namjoon was pinned between the two of them. “Shit, that—fuck...”

“Fuck him, Namjoonie,” Seokjin breathed, kissing his neck and letting his nails bite into Yoongi's legs, rocking his hips slow. Namjoon couldn't take much stimulation, not when he was getting fucked and certainly not while he was getting fucked with his dick buried in Min Yoongi, that shameless slut the two of them had drawn out.

“Let him fuck himself,” Namjoon said, leaning his head back to rest on Seokjin's shoulder. “Mmmshit. Come on, slut, do as I say.” Namjoon gave Yoongi's thigh a hard _slap,_ left the shape of his hand on his skin as Yoongi flexed his ass and thighs, moved himself against Namjoon.

“That's good,” Seokjin murmured, hands coming up to palm Namjoon's chest, playing with his nipples. “That's a good boy, Yoongiyah, move your ass like that. Take his dick like the whore you are, that's right...” Seokjin watched Namjoon's hands spread Yoongi's cheeks, watched Namjoon's cock move in and out as Yoongi struggled to find a rhythm he could maintain.

“Father,” he gasped, and Seokjin felt Namjoon tense, tighten up all over. “Father please, please fuck me, please, I can't, I can't--”

“Can't what, sweet child,” Seokjin asked, pinching Namjoon's nipples before reaching down to let his hands rest against his groin, his fingertips on Namjoon's balls as his hips snapped forward. “Try harder. Make him cum inside you, let him breed your beautiful little slut-ass.”

“Shit, hyung,” Namjoon thrust harder and Yoongi cried out, straining to keep his hips up. “Shit, so tight, so fucking good, fuck--”

“Breed him,” Seokjin grinned like the devil himself, grabbing Yoongi's hips and _grinding_ him back onto Namjoon. “ _Do it,_ Namjoon.”

“Hyung--” Namjoon groaned, tipped his head back and his hands overlaid Seokjins, yanking Yoongi back and bending over his body, spreading his own thighs as he pinned Yoongi to the floor and fucked down into him, back onto Seokjin's cock.

“You fucking whores,” Seokjin hummed, pulling out of Namjoon, bending to lick at his ass, thumbing him open as his hips kept jerking. “God, I love it.” He carefully sank back in and pulled out. Pushed in, pulled out, all the way, until there was a sick _pop_ every time he pulled out and Namjoon couldn't move.

“Please,” he groaned, still pushing his dick into Yoongi, pinned beneath him, shivering violently. “God, hyung, cum in me.”

“Again,” Seokjin hissed, burying himself and moving hard and shallow. “Say it again, Namjoonie--”

“Cum in my ass,” Namjoon panted, his face half-buried in Yoongi's soft mint hair. “Breed my ass, hyung, please--”

Seokjin made a pained sound, pushed in hard and stayed there. He stayed there until his balls were tender, cum on his cock as he moved slowly to start thrusting out, leaving a mess on Namjoon's darker skin. Yoongi whimpered, the sound pained and soft. Only then did Seokjin pull all the way out, letting Namjoon up, biting his neck and kissing his lips even as Yoongi turned onto his back, still hard, bruised all over.

“Please,” Yoongi whimpered, one hand on his cock, the other on a nipple. “Please, I need...”

“Need what,” Namjoon asked, and Seokjin felt a shudder run through him. “Need to cum?”

“Yes,” Yoongi panted, eyes wide as Namjoon bent to lick his tip.

“Fuck your priest's throat like a good boy,” he urged, pushing his head down. Seokjin groaned in approval and Yoongi—Yoongi closed his eyes and rested his fingers on Namjoon's shoulders in a show of submission, rocking his hips up slowly.

“Father,” he breathed. “Father please it's so good, please put your fingers in me, please I'm gonna cum, please Father make me cum--” Seokjin moaned when Yoongi jerked up, thighs open and eyes squeezed closed, bucking his hips up and down.

“Slut,” Seokjin accused, when Namjoon came up and moved to Yoongi's mouth, the two of them exchanging a kiss that Seokjin could see was slick with semen. He watched their tongues slip together, felt his dick twitch. Namjoon must have felt it too, because he groaned and pulled away, licking up Yoongi's cheek to bite at his ear. “Christ. Why are you two so hot.”

Namjoon laughed and Yoongi groaned, hitting Namjoon's shoulder with his fist.

“Don't use my kink against me, damn it,” he complained, gasping loudly as Namjoon sat up, three fingers still buried in his ass, his pinky slowly wiggling in. “Fuck.”

“It's there to be used against you,” Namjoon laughed, smacking his lips before turning his head to kiss Seokjin, who shamelessly sucked at his tongue and licked his teeth. “Mmm.”

“Come on, you shitheads,” Seokjin laughed, biting Namjoon's shoulders as Yoongi squirmed on the floor. “Shower, now. Then both of you are helping me clean up this fucking mess. Coconut oil. Really now?”

“I wanted to try it,” Namjoon said. “Internet recommended it for a slow fuck.”

“Uh huh,” Seokjin rolled his eyes. “You're still helping me clean up. Next time just get the fucking lube, jackass, at least that's water-based. Cleans up easier.”

“Yes~” Yoongi laughed, gasping when Seokjin slapped the inside of his thigh.

“And you, you brat,” he accused. “You got _waxed?_ Can't you go a day without lifting your fucking skirt?”

“You'd like that huh, me in a skirt. You suggested that once. Skirt and lacy panties. I bet it'd feel good, since I'm all smooth now~” he laughed, reaching down to touch the skin of his groin.

“Really now,” Namjoon asked, cocking an eyebrow back at Seokjin, who shrugged.

“You won't wear one. I don't see why I can't ask Yoongi to.”

“I want to be there,” Namjoon said. Yoongi grinned, slowly getting up and wiggling himself off of Namjoon's fingers, standing unsteadily.

“I promise I'll let you fuck me with a skirt on,” he said, having to lean into the counter. “But. Shower first? Please?”

The three of them made it to the shower, somehow. Seokjin grabbed their dishsoap on the way, made sure they got cleaned up properly (which took far longer than it should have and _may_ have involved Seokjin fucking Yoongi's throat while he fingered Namjoon) before they went about taking care of the mess in the kitchen.

“I make the food we eat in here,” Seokjin complained, and Yoongi laughed.

“It was just my ass on the counter,” he said, eyebrow cocked up as Namjoon snickered. “Don't act like you don't eat that, too.”

“I'm ordering Cantonese,” Seokjin announced, smacking Yoongi on his jogger-clad ass. “And if you want to make a fucking meal of yourself, I'm going to fuck you with melon slices, do you understand me? I am going to cover your dick in whipped cream, fuck you with melon slices, and make you eat them.”

“Sounds like a good time,” Yoongi smiled, and Seokjin groaned. Namjoon fucking _cackled_ in the background.

“I've created a manwhore,” Seokjin lamented in Namjoon's general direction. “Out of a religious virgin prude, I have created this shameless slut who can't go a day without spreading his legs for us.” A pause, and then a grin as he kissed Yoongi on the mouth, bit into his lip.

“I'm so proud of myself.”

 


End file.
